Grave
by fanta-faerie
Summary: Owls hooted, the crickets chirped...and then all fell silent. A single man opened a rusted gate, walking in, walking faster, past dusty graves...until he stopped. Stopped at a grave. Her grave.


The night was cold and dark, the owls hooting drowning out the faint chirps of the crickets in the wet grass. Nothing would stir on such a night, on such a gloomy night. The wind whispered through the trees, creating sounds that were meant to be frightening.

Then the night was suddenly silent.

Nothing, not a single noise.

And, then, wait--what was that?

A footstep.

A footstep as loud as thunder shook the ground. Crunching through the autumn leaves, someone walked, hurriedly moving through the woods.

A gate creaked open, rusted shut from the years.

A sigh. A sigh so soft, it was little more than a whisper of breath. But that sigh carried a story, a story for the ages. That sigh was filled with pain, loss, sorrow, suffering. But it was also filled with love.

A sigh.

A man moved through the graveyard, searching, searching for a grave, one in particular. A muttered breath and a light suddenly appeared, shining a path forward.

His footsteps quickened, hurried until he was running, running as fast as he wished he once had.

And then he stopped.

The owls looked down upon the man with long black hair, their wide yellow eyes reading the story behind his presence.

He knelt down, and a hand reached out, tracing the cold, hard stone.

The name on the gravestone was so familiar, yet so distant.

It was that name.

Bits of dirt and dust fluttered down as he brushed the gravestone. The hand fell from the name to the mound of dirt beneath him. It smoothed it over, again and again, as he had used to smooth her red hair.

No tears fell from his face.

No signs of sadness.

Just regret.

And then there was another sound. Another pair of feet, another footstep. A man in a billowing cloak opened the rusting gate, his hooked nose preceding his presence.

He walked, moved like a bat with his black cloak, towards a grave.

He paused, hesitated for a second as he saw the kneeling form in front of him.

But he went on, on for the sake of that name, the name on that gravestone.

They stood there in silence, both men, both reliving the past, both hating that name for being on that gravestone.

"I loved her, you know." The first man said, his voice hoarse. "No one ever realized, but I loved her."

"I knew." The hooked nose man said quietly. "I knew everything about her. I knew you loved her. I knew that you loved her the moment you first set eyes on her, I knew you loved her every moment of her life."

The wind whispered through the sparse, yellowing grass.

"How?" He croaked. "How could you, when not even my best friend…"

"Because I loved her too." The other man said simply. "I loved her too. Perhaps more than you did."

The first man chuckled, a mirthless laugh. "Is that possible?" He asked, standing up. "Is that even possible?"

"Anything is possible for her." He said, gazing down at the mound of earth. "Anything is possible with her." A pained smile appeared on his sharp, thin face as he looked down at her grave.

"So many years…" The other trailed off, looking up at the starry night sky. "So many years have passed, but it seems like only moments."

An owl hooted, breaking the spell.

"I should leave." The first man said abruptly.

The second sighed, a sigh so like the other's that in that one moment, the both of them realized that perhaps, if one of them hadn't been in Slytherin, and if one of them hadn't been in Gryffindor, they might have been, so possibly, friends.

"Goodbye." They both whispered, looking back at the grave.

The walked, side by side, through the graveyard, past the gate, to the wooded street outside.

They turned, facing each other.

"For her." The long haired man said.

"For her." The hooked nose man repeated.

For one long moment, cold black eyes met hard gray eyes.

Both showing pain from the years.

Then they both turned, back to back, enemies till the end.

Slowly, the crickets started to chirp again, the owls to hoot, and the wind to whisper through the trees.

A huge black dog bounded through the woods, silver water falling from its cheeks.

A bat like man turned on the spot and disappeared into air, a single drop of water falling to the ground.

And the bright moon glittered coldly, shining silvery light on the grave of Lily Potter.

--

**Yes, once again, another Lily/Sirius and Lily/Snape fic. I need to lay off of these, I swear…but please Review!!!!**

**Fanta-Faerie**


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